Cursed Heart
by xrhayne
Summary: REPOST YuuRam. Wolfram and the Bielefeld Curse. Repost, retouch, and update of of this fic will be under this new account.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou… If I did, Yuri and Wolfram would actually see some action (snickers)…

Title: Cursed Heart

Author: xrhayne (posted under 83rd Twilight)

Genre: flangsty with a bits of etceteras on the sides

Main Pairing: YuuRam

Warnings: Slash/ MxM/ Shounen Ai/ Yaoi… mpreg? You've been warned…

Rating: T

Summary: The Bielefeld Family has a cursed legacy… guess who inherited it? When the engagement is broken, Wolfram leaves with a broken heart and two extra baggage nobody knew about. So what happens when he is found ten years later preparing for death?

Find out….

Cursed Heart by xrhayne

Prologue: Cursing Hearts

Eight lit black candles were placed inside a circle of ancient runes. In the midst, stood a thick red candle with its brightly burning flames illuminating the four objects that surrounded it: a lock of blonde hair, a vial of blood, a family crest and a withered flower.

Outside the circle, a beautiful maiden crowned with midnight tresses and eyes of the deepest ends of the forests stood with an intricately carved dagger in her hands. Silken robes lay at her feet revealing her naked form.

Her swollen abdomen exposing the truth of her condition. Pointing the blade towards the flames, she spoke loud and clear:

"By my death, I will be avenged. By blood, my will be bound. Suffer as I have suffered. You and your accursed family. Doomed to walk in the circle of pain. The power I have given thee, I cannot retrieve, but this I declare: may your truest flame be sealed in the depths of the frozen abyss of your heart. By my hatred you are damned. By my death, your fate is sealed. By my love, you may be saved. Heed now my voice, Keepers of the Earth, Air, Water and Fire. Avenge your daughter's honor!"

As lightning surged towards the centre of the circle, the blade was plunged into the priestess' womb splitting the distended flesh. A wailing cry pierced the air as a body fell onto the marbled floor.

"It is done…"

The temple maidens rushed to prepare for a hasty funeral. Several of them rushed here and there to find their temple head priestess to have someone facilitate the final rites.

The sole heir of the Bielefeld estate was found dead late last night with his pregnant wife and their unborn child. The cause of their deaths have not been disclosed, although it has been said that the servants heard their lady scream moments before they were found lifeless inside their bedroom. The young lord's heart had been ripped out. It was never found.

The maidens opened the heavy doors and gasped in surprise at the sight that greeted them.

There in the middle of the temple, before the altar, was a baby wrapped in silken cloth. He had the most beautiful green eyes and delicate golden curls. He grasped two interesting objects within his tiny fingers. A small chain on which hung a clear gem with red flames flickering inside and a noble family crest.

The Bielefeld crest.

Their head priestess cannot be located that day. She was never found.

End Prologue

Part I: Chapter One: Brokenhearted Beauty

The halls at the west wing of the castle are empty at midnight. Save for a lone figure striding the spacious corridors with quick yet silent footfalls. The light of the full moon illumines the darkness through intricate stained glass windows. The figure fleets by like a graceful phantom gliding towards the narrow stairs leading up to one of the towers. Little drops of clear liquid trailed the path hastily trodden by lightly covered feet. The long, narrow, winding staircase was void of light, but the body had memorized every concrete step that a stumble or a fall is highly unlikely before the destination is reached. Little beams of moonlight filter through the cracks of a wooden door at the top. Pale, slender fingers reached for the metallic lock and released it with a soft click opening the entrance to a small terrace. Walking towards the left side of the railing, the slim form perched onto it, bare back leaning on the cold, stone wall, one knee bent and planted firmly on the rail while the other dangled freely in the air. Clasped tightly in one hand was a rare clear gem with red flames within, glittering in the night like shining rubies within a large diamond.

A pale, beautiful face lifted towards the heavens. Bright, viridian eyes wide with deep pain gaze at the stars, seeking for answers that fate refused to give. Tears flowed silently without restraint on perfectly chiseled cheeks. Tears of anger, tears of pain. The star filled canopy of the sky is a mocking background to the ethereal vision of beauty in anguish.

Because there in the tower overlooking a vast, verdant forest was one Sir Wolfram Bielefeld alone and miserable in what should have been the most wonderful night of his colourful mazoku life.

His one hundredth birthday. His coming of age. The time in his life where he can finally step into the threshold of mazoku adulthood as he comes to the realization of his full demon potentials. It is the age when he can now bind with his chosen mate and have beautiful children together. Or at least that was how it was supposed to go.

But for all his beauty, devotion and passionate charm, he could not hold on to the man who had claimed his heart and soul.

For twenty years Wolfram waited for the love of his life: the Maou, Yuuri Shibuya. The wimpy king who gave him the slap that changed his life forever. And they had been through a lot with the passing of time. More than a decade of friendship made him hope that the black-haired young man would learn to love him and accept him as a mate. After Yuuri had returned to Shin Makoku, they bonded some more and eventually became the best of friends, his wimp's family had welcomed him into their life, with Mama Jennifer already having picked a wedding outfit for him (a white rhinestone beaded strapless ball gown with a long laced train and a veil), his own mother had already given him one of her treasured gem-encrusted tiara, and both moms exchange wedding ideas regularly. Their respective brothers must have a formal wedding attire hanged discreetly somewhere in their closets. Günter had even grudgingly admitted defeat and sobbingly surrendered his fateful love for the Maou-heika to a worthy rival. Greta started calling him Daddy Wolfram. Annissina had already invented her perfect wedding gift (shudder!). Eru already declared herself as their flower girl. The point is everyone had already assumed, accepted and even anticipated that they would eventually end up together. Everyone turned out wrong. Everyone never considered Yuuri's feelings about the whole situation. Everyone ended up disappointed.

Over a month ago, Wolfram von Bielefeld finally consented to formally break his engagement to the 27th Maou once and for all, so that the latter could officially pursue the fascinating Lady Arania Lavelle, a fair-haired beauty from the western part of the kingdom, the pride of a minor noble clan: the Lavelles. The cheating wimp met her at one the festival balls six months ago and immediately fell under her spell.

At first, Wolfram tried to ignore the situation. He told himself that _his_ Yuuri was just infatuated with another pretty bimbo. After some time he reverted to his brat-prince mode. His jealous outbursts had Yuuri muttering retorts like 'she's not a bimbo', 'you don't know her', 'she's a fine young woman', 'the engagement's a fluke' or 'why don't you just cancel the damned thing if you're too worked up about it.'

Developing a semblance of self control over the years allowed Wolfram to prevent their fights from escalating further. But somehow Yuuri started to drift away from the blonde prince.

As the days, weeks and months passed by, the Maou began to spend more and more of his free time with the lady and coming back from each of the visits with a smile getting brighter every single time. When the young woman began to visit the palace, Wolfram stubbornly kept to Yuri's side at all times even when he was being dismissed, taking every opportunity to rub it in her face that _he_ was the king's fiancé and not her. The fair lady though, was nothing but gracious and polite, her manners impeccable, her fine figure tastefully attired and her words always carefully chosen as to not offend anyone. Yuuri praised her as a mature, sophisticated woman. Wolfram thought she was a first class bitch.

But her charms soon won everyone's sympathy. Soon enough the betting tides were turned to her favour. Soon enough, Wolfram became the third wheel. Everyone began talking about what a good queen she'd make. There were hushed whispers of how the mazoku prince should just bow out graciously to the competition since it was fairly obvious to everyone who their beloved king adored.

Everytime Yuuri approached about breaking their "mock" engagement as he termed it, Wolfram would hear not of it, avoiding the issue at all costs. So Yuuri tried a new tactic: he began exalting Lady Arania's virtues whenever the blonde was around, even at the dinner table. Wolfram could often be seen walking out from the dining hall and sometimes he would not come down to eat at all.

Finally, his brothers confronted him about giving up the engagement for his own pride's sake, as well as for the whole kingdom. As Gwendal and Conrad's concerned eyes looked at him with pity, he was slapped hard by the pathetic laughingstock that he had made of himself. Finally, he snapped. He locked himself inside his room for a good two weeks before calmly going out to look for the wimp-king who had the gall to dump him.

Finding Yuuri in his office, Wolfram asked for a private audience with the king. Something in his eyes made the Maou entertain his request. Looking straight into those onyx orbs, he asked for a last memory.

'A night in your bed. You owe me that much for breaking my heart.'

That was his condition for agreeing with the termination of his betrothal to the Maou.

Yuuri had no choice but to comply. That night was the most bittersweet time of Wolfram's life. Something that will make the next decade bearable.

That night, Yuuri apologized for hurting him, for the impression that he was leading the blonde on, for falling in love with someone else. He need not say the words, every touch he gave spoke of apologies, of guilt and… of pity.

Wolfram took whatever he was given that night. He clung to every kiss and every caress like a desperate man holding on to a lifeline. And with many tears he tried to let go of his beloved. The pain in his heart eased and tripled at the same time.

As the days progressed he painfully realized that he will never get over Yuuri. Ever. Even as he sees the new royal couple together everyday, he couldn't fully accept the reality that Yuuri can never be his anymore.

A week before his birthday, the blonde mazoku received two gifts, a bound leather journal that belonged to his late father, and beautiful rare gem that was a family heirloom. As he read the journal entries, he learned new things about his father and his family heritage- dark secrets that were kept through the ages. He openly wept as he read the final page.

Four days ago another surprise waited for him when he woke up just before dawn. A different maryouku seemed to warmly radiate from his abdomen. Bright green eyes became wide with the comprehension of what that meant. Tears fell yet again just before the sun rose.

His birthday was a low key affair. He requested it to be that way. He need not any more fodder for waggling tongues if he celebrated it extravagantly as his mother had initially planned. He only had a simple dinner with his family, friends and Yuuri at Blood Pledge Castle at the king's behest. Thanking his host and maou's would be fiancé for their hospitality, he quietly retired into the night.

Sitting now in his secret sanctuary for what he believed would be the last time he lets, what he prayed would be his last, tears fall. Tears for his broken heart and the future he could have had here with the people he loved. With the person he believed to be the other half of his soul...

But he knew that he had to be strong. He touched his stomach lightly with a soft smile. At least he will have a lasting memory.

He knew that it was time to say goodbye.

If only for a period time.

He will come home after ten years.

Back to Shin Makoku…

If only to finally die…

End Chapter 1

A/N: So should I continue? Do tell.

Reviews are much appreciated.

Note: As listed in my profile, I am currently organizing, retouching, reposting, and updating all my fanfics from my ex pen names: Kage-kurokawa and 83rd twilight under xrhayne. As well as posting my new fics here.

Thanks


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: Nope. Don't own kyou kara maoh... wouldn't even be writing this if i did...XD

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I'm glad to see that some of you are still reading this. Cursed Heart has always been one of my favourite fic to write. Because for some insane reason it's like I'm watching a movie unfold in my head when plot bunny attacks me with a chapter XD.

I'm fixing the chapters. Proofreading and polishing them a bit. I'm doing this for all my reposts. I'll be done in a week or two at most. Then I'll post the new chapters. Thanks for your patience .

Chapter 2 Farewells and Hellos

Swift, light footfalls hit the hard, dusty earth barely disturbing the quietude of the semi-deserted streets of the sleeping town. Now going straight ahead, now turning left in dark, narrow alleyways that for the time being was blessed by the moons light-bearing fingers. Agile feet belie their owner's reluctant heart. Thick, plain, drab-looking brown robes swayed rather stiffly as Wolfram von Bielefeld adjusted his hood pulling it ever closer to hide his exquisite yet sorrow laden countenance.

The young mazoku prince determinedly moved on, willing his body to take every step that will lead him away from Covenant Castle and away from the demon tribe before the sun rises.

He left behind several letters that he had written a few days before, addressed to the people closest to his heart- a certain Maou-heika included- he had poured out his deepest feelings and everything that he had wanted to say with black ink and perfumed parchments, words he couldn't find the courage to utter in person. He hoped that they would understand the choice that he had made.

He explained that he needed some time away from everyone and to confront his personal issues on his own. He also implored them not to make the king feel guilty or responsible about what he had done.

Because even after everything that had happened, his Royal Wimpiness does deserve to be happy with the person he cherishes the most. Wolfram just needed some time to get used to that. Or so he had written.

But there are two things he did not reveal in his personal letters: the curse and the gift.

The last thing he needed was Yuuri's pity. And knowing the wimp, he would probably try to nobly-and dumbly, in Wolfram's opinion- sacrifice himself, his happiness and even his love life for the sake of aiding his 'best friend'. Out of guilt, if nothing else.

Leaving the castle, the blonde kept himself in check as he walked to a rendezvous point where his father's cousin awaited him with a horse and some supplies for the journey that was secretly planned several days after the termination of his engagement.

It had been a difficult but necessary decision to make. As it was, his feet were getting heavier with each step he took, away from the place he called home. Away from his family. Away from his beloved.

And towards his freedom. Towards a lonely path to independence. He had determinedly made up his mind to be strong and pick himself up on his own, far from the shields of his name and his title and the protective arms of his family. It was time for the spoiled brat-prince to grow up.

He hastened to meet up with Shardan von Christ, the wayward eldest son of the head of a lower branch of the von Christ family. Wolfram's paternal grandmother and Shardan's father are siblings. And as godfather to the third son of Lady Cecil, he is probably the closest father figure that Wolfram had ever known (save perhaps for Conrad). Albeit, he was an absentee father as they mostly communicated through letters over the years because, Shardan von Christ was busy juggling his time travelling the countryside, performing familial duties, writing his memoirs, researching ancients mazoku cultures and of course, indulging his favourite pastime: philandering. Over the years, he tried to see his nephew whenever he could manage pull himself off some clingy wench's arm or take some time off from his clan's demanding tasks, which wasn't too often. The times they got to spend together was squandered by talking, catching up and… painting. Wolfram owed his uncle the discovery of his artistic brilliance (a/n shudders).

The young prince has always been very fond of his father's cousin growing up. His uncle was a rare specimen because he had none of the suffocating aristocratic air of the other nobles. Shardan was very casual and yet was very suave in his ways. He was not as reticent as Gwendal, nor as calmly indulgent as Conrad, and especially not as overemotional and hyperactive as their mother, but he was like a combination of all three in balanced proportions. Although it could be safe to say that his vanity may actually rival that of Lady Cheri.

As soon as Sir von Christ heard about the cancellation of the engagement, he was more than ready to go up in arms against that 'unworthy, cruel, heartless, blind beast' that broke his beautiful nephew's fragile heart. Only Wolfram's personal visit to plead for reason aborted the other's grand master scheme. With many a disappointed sigh, older mazoku turned his efforts on extending his generosity to the blonde prince, offering his home as a haven for the forlorn heart.

The offer, however tempting, was politely declined because Wolfram already had something in mind about what he wanted to do. Instead, the green-eyed mazoku asked for a different favour. He requested for a horse and for some provisions that he might need for a long journey on the date of his own choosing. The older mazoku, being the smart fellow that he was, had a strong inkling on what his nephew was planning. A week prior to the scheduled departure, a letter of confirmation was sent to the young Bielefeld.

Avoiding detection or confrontation of any kind, Wolfram rushed to meet his uncle behind one of the lesser known taverns in the kingdom. Rolling his eyes at the predictability of the other man, he moved toward the patiently waiting mazoku with a small smile playing on his lips.

After thanking his knight in shining armour for everything he had provided, Wolfram solemnly vowed to repay this act of kindness when he returns one day.

His uncle handed him one of the horses' reins and laughed softly at the young prince before flamboyantly declaring, "Don't be so dramatic, my beautiful silly nephew, I'm going to endow you with the company of my very fine self."

Wolfram tried to refuse the charitable offer, but the look he received from those dark sapphire orbs brooked no objections.

Mounting their horses and starting on their way, they travelled at a casual pace until they reach the nearby border before dawn, so as to avoid suspicion from the night watchers and other night frolickers. The younger mazoku tried to divert his mind from his present troubles by satisfying some of his curiosities. Thus, they spent the ride in a quiet eye-opening conversation.

"What about your estate Uncle? I know that your duties are too significant to be neglected for even a short period of time." Wolfram began his inquiry.

"Worry not, I've arranged everything. My brother is more than happy to take over for me. Too happy I should say." Was the smooth, almost sarcastic reply.

"You forfeited your right as a first-born?" Wolfram found it incredible to believe that anyone could give up such a position at a drop of a hat, and only to patronize someone else's whim.

"I prefer to call it an early retirement." Shardan merely shrugged it off.

"But why?"

There was a sigh.

"Why? That's a complicated question. But then the answer to a question that starts with the word 'why' is always complicated…"

"Uncle!"

The blue-eyed noble shifted in his horse and sat up a little straighter.

"Hmmm… very well. One of the reasons is that that I'm bored, and tired of the routine my position demands of me. And then there's the fact that I've sworn an oath to your late father, to help you deal with your personal crisis."

"Father? How could my father have ever known about Yuuri?"

"Not the Maou, Wolfram, I'm talking about your family legacy."

"How… oh father..."

"Yes, your father was my best friend. I owed him my life, you know. We used to tell each other everything and the curse was one of the secrets that he imparted to me. He was family, and I promised him that I will help find a way to break the evil spell. So for over a century now, I've researched about the curse, with your father when he has still alive, hoping to spare you from the pain of going through what every male descendant of your blood had gone through since it began. Your father feared greatly for your future and practically begged me to help you when the time comes."

"I didn't know that. I only received father's journal eight days ago. He wrote several things about this dark legacy, but many of the information written down were vague at best."

"I see. I want you to listen to me carefully. Your family history is a fascinating yet tragic one, Wolfram. I brought some of the ancient Bielefeld scrolls your late father left in my care. There was very little information about the curse. It wasn't included in any public record of your kin. It was of course, understandable that they would keep such a sensitive matter under wraps. Your father and I had to rely on private journals, personal letters or memoirs. The older texts were written in one of the ancient tongues, and your father was long gone before I was able to translate some of them. It took me fifty years before I finally reached a breakthrough. Old languages were never my forte. From what I know, the curse began before the founding of Shin Makoku. The ancient texts prove that. So far I've deciphered a place of origin. It would seem that long before your ancestors came to Shin Makoku, some generations before the time of Shinou, they lived as powerful lords of the lands just outside present day Caloria. Of old the place was called Emraud, the flourishing green valley. Now it is known as Lacrimea, the land of tears. I've been there several times after your father passed away, hoping to find some more clues. All I found were old temple ruins, but I haven't the time then to fully explore that site. I also came across the burnt foundations of the site where the ancient Bielefeld estate was reported to have once stood. I also heard a few crazy myths from the locals, stories passed down through generations that these might actually be relevant. The common factor of the tale was something about evil witches punishing equally evil warlords by ripping the evil lord's heart out and having it for dinner. But that's another story. Searching the archives, I looked up some ancient families and clans of the place, I was lucky enough to stumble upon perhaps the only remaining complete record of the ancient Bielefeld line before the flight to Shin Makoku. How it was preserved for many millennia, I care not to find out. I was only grateful to finally have something concrete to work on. That was about some time after the war four decades ago. Anyway, I found several interesting facts. During a certain period of time, the Bielefeld bloodline diminished significantly after merely three generations that all but one bearing the blood survived. The heir. After him, the Bielefeld clan started to beget only one son for every generation, a male heir in every single case, and the years of their death is basically younger than the usual mazoku life span. That was all I could gather after many years of research. But I'm not going to be beaten down. We now have a place and a time line. We can commence from there."

"Commence from where?" Wolfram asked, slightly confused.

One fine silver brow rose rather dramatically.

"I will not be forsworn, my dear nephew. And now that you've opted to run away from your predicaments, you might as well do something productive with your time."

"I'm not running away-"

"You must think of your heir. You must try to spare your future offspring from this burden, unless you're thinking of ending the line with you."

The young lord paused to think.

"I-father wrote that the curse lasts about ten years. When black flames begin to materialize inside the gem it will gradually engulf the red ones. When the flame turns black, that is the end. So that means I have roughly a decade to find a way to break this curse or die a very painful death."

"You mean the black flames had already begun to appear? But you are too young…your father was around a hundred and fifty when it started."

"Well, maybe it's different with every generation."

Shardan shook his head.

"That cannot be… your father told me that the curse will only commence when an heir is about to be born."

Wolfram stiffened.

"Uh, maybe it just decided to start early."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Wolfram?"

Emerald orbs refused to meet questioning sapphire ones.

Silence.

"I am expecting."

"That no good, cowardly son of a-"

A horse neighed as its rider roughly yanked at the reins to make it turn around.

"Uncle, stop!"

"I'm going back to give him a piece of my mind, and my sword…"

"Please, uncle, he doesn't know."

Silence.

"He doesn't know."

"Wolf…"

"I don't want him to know. Please. Let's just go." At the sight of his dejected nephew, Shardan redirected his horse to their original route.

Moments of placating tensed nerves passed.

"You are awfully calm about all this Wolfram."

"I know, uncle… and that's what scares me."

A pause.

"So where to now my young prince?"

"To Lacrimea, Uncle. I will try to search for more answers there."

"To Lacrimea it is."

The two riders were discreetly well on their way to the borders of Shin Makoku, when the sound of another set of hooves swiftly approaching made them stop in their tracks.

For one single moment, Wolfram actually thought that Yuuri might realized that he had gone and have come to stop him and… shook himself from his reverie as a young red-haired soldier in blue uniform came into view.

'Definitely not Yuuri.' Wolfram thought sadly.

Wolfram recognized the newcomer as one of his personal guards. Rowan Marron. A loyal, dedicated soldier and a casual friend. And right now he was wearing a stricken look on his face.

"You're not going to leave without saying goodbye are you, Excellency?" he addressed the prince, his big brown eyes filling up with tears. "Because really, that would be just icing on the cake of a shitty night, when my fiancée just told me she's pregnant with another man's child, and now you're going to leave without a word as well…

"How did you-?" Wolfram was surprised. He had thought he made sure he wasn't seen or followed.

"I was on my way to the tavern to drown my sorrows and all, when I heard your voice," the guard answered. "I've been in your guards for over thirty years now, my Lord. I'd recognize your voice no matter how hushed it is. As soon as I realized your intentions, I quickly ran to get my horse and grabbed whatever I might need. "

"Rowan…"

"I realize that after everything that happened, you may not decide to stay. Everyone of us under your command hoped you would not go… but… well, now that I know you're going to leave, you must take me with you!" Chocolate eyes entreated emerald green ones.

"But what about your family, they would be worried-"

"I've no family left, sir. They all died during the war four decades ago." The soldier quietly stated.

"I'm sorry…"

"I've no family, no fiancée, and now no job…" Rowan's self-pity was quite evident that Wolfram found it in his own grieving heart to feel sympathy for the soldier.

"I cannot take you with me. I cannot afford to pay you. And there is no guarantee when I will come back, if at all."

"I don't care sir. I have nothing left here anyway. Please, let me go with you! I can fend for myself and I will not be a burden. I need to get away too..."

A third voice interrupted their exchange.

"Oh well, misery loves company my dear nephew. Let's take him with us Wolfram; he is such a cute little thing. I may find some use for him."

At the sight of Shardan's wolfishly grinning face and Rowan's wide doe-eyed pleading look, the blonde finally caved.

"Very, well. Uncle, this is Rowan Marron. One of my soldiers. Rowan, this is my uncle, Shardan von Christ."

"Call me Shardan, I do so hate formalities. It is a pleasure to meet someone almost as delicate as my lovely little nephew."

Dark russet eyes narrowed slightly.

"I assure you, my lord, I am far from delicate."

And with that, Wolfram suddenly found himself in company of two others on a journey that he had planned to go through on his own.

And somehow, he felt a little comfort touch his weary, broken soul.

For a week, the three of them journeyed over land and over water, with brief stops to eat, sleep, or get necessary supplies.

Halfway through the journey though, while passing through a vast field of wildflowers, young lord Bielefeld unexpectedly fainted and nearly fell off his horse had it not been for Rowan's sharp instincts of grabbing the reins with one hand and his superior's arms with the other.

Shardan lifted his nephew up and laid him on a bed of pink and yellow blossoms.

"What is wrong with him?" Rowan asked worriedly. "Is he ill? He's been quite pale of late; he threw up all his breakfast this morning and yesterday too."

"It is to be expected." The silver blue-haired mazoku replied vaguely. "He'll be up in a minute."

"Up in a minute?" The soldier exclaimed incredulously. "Expected? You expect him to have random fainting spells?"

"Calm down, little nanny." His companion placated softly.

"You tell me what's wrong with his Excellency." Brown eyes glared, demanding.

"How about you find out for yourself? It's fairly easy."

"How?"

Long elegant fingers took sun-kissed ones and placed them above their unconscious companion's abdomen. Words were whispered a breath away from intently listening ears

"Place your hands over here. Now close your eyes. Concentrate. That's right. Can you feel it? It's still quite weak, but it's there now."

"Oh. So that's it." Rowan finally understood and nodded.

Soft lips came in contact with slightly tanned skin in a quick barely there caress which startled the younger of the two conscious mazoku.

"What do you think you were doing?"

"Nothing…" The mock innocent face of the culprit was almost believable.

"What do you mean nothing you—?!"

"What's all the commotion about?" Bright viridian orbs finally fluttering to consciousness trying to acquaint themselves with their surroundings.

"Sire, you're awake. Congratulations… I mean…"

"Ah, so you know." Pale lips quirked in a wan smile.

"Yes."

"Hn. We should get going then." Wolfram sat and reached out his hand to be pulled up by the strong grip of his ex-subordinate.

"Are you truly alright now? Maybe we should linger a bit—"

"I'm fine now Rowan. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can rest, don't you think?"

"As you wish, Excellency."

"Call me Wolfram. There is no need for titles in this company."

"I shall try."

"Good." With that the blonde turned to prepare his horse.

As Rowan moved to do the same, he passed by the silent blue-eyed noble, and softly hissed. "You reputation precedes you, my lord Shardan. But I will not fall for your games or your bed."

He turned on his heel leaving Lord von Christ with an amused and contemplative look on his handsome features.

"We shall see, little flame."

They pressed on towards the nearest harbour and boarded the first available ship bound for Caloria.

Not having been successful in overcoming seasickness in the past, coupled with morning sickness, two more fainting episodes, the tiresome journey, the restless nights, and a grieving heart, stress began to take its toll on the young Bielefeld and he fell in and out of illness needing all the help he can get from his uncle and his loyal guard in order to survive the last remaining legs of their journey to the port of Caloria and from there, a tedious four day ride to the town of Lacrimea.

End Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks again for reading and the reviews: arte0135; Sawyer Fan; makyone.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own anything but the plot… and Shardan… and Rowan… and the twins …

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Chapter 3 is here.

Cursed Heart by xrhayne (writing as 83rd Twilight)

Chapter 3: Foundations of Hope

The sounds of the night broke through the dense prison of thick trunks and lush leaves. The steady rush of a stream hidden behind some nearby foliage, the chirping sounds of the cricketfrogs, the songs of the hummingowls, and the occasional howls or wails of some other nocturnal creature haunted the silence of the woods.

Light from the bright full moon above, peeked through the canopy of leaves illuminating the forest floor.

Soft, royal blue cloth rustled slightly with the cool night time breeze as the expensive fabric kissed the moist, grass covered ground. Hasty feet treaded through a seldom travelled path in the woods leading to the exit of the dense forest.

Stepping unto open ground, the wind shifted westward, caressing the velvety fabric of a hood pushing it backwards to reveal golden threads glittering under the moonlight. Their owner marched onwards with nary a care, wearing a slight frown and a contemplative look on his beautiful face.

He was late for dinner. Again. He can already imagine a certain someone fidgeting by the porch, brows wrinkling anxiously, tanned fingers nervously tapping the wooden railing as sock-covered feet walk back and forth.

He gave a small smile at the thought. He had a good twenty-minute walk ahead of him if he continued at his present speed, thirty if he slowed down to a more relaxed pace. His sadistic side decided to do the latter.

After all, there's always something about walking under the full moon that inspires an introspection of sorts.

Leisurely dragging his boot clad feet, Wolfram von Bielefeld contemplated about the changes in his life during the three months that he had left his home, Shin Makoku.

It was indeed on a similar night such as this, a night of the full moon, when the broken-hearted mazoku prince stole away from the castle like a thief.

Taking only what was left of his pride and the remnants of his broken heart.

He decided then to embark on a journey to find some reprieve from his sorrows, bring back some peace in his soul and find a purpose for his existence.

Fate perhaps had found a little mercy in her heart to bless the young broken soul with two wondrous people reaching out to him in his dark hours. He would ever be grateful for those moments when a now dearly-loved uncle decided to stay by his nephew's side, and when a certain loyal soldier selflessly offered his services and his friendship to his dispirited captain.

And now here they are, living in the outskirts of this old village in Lacrimea. This vast rural settlement at present is comprised by two large villages, each modestly thriving on agriculture and trade. This is also the place that kept the secrets to the dark blood heritage of Wolfram's family for many millennia.

Upon reaching the town, the trio, tired from their harrowing four-day ride, checked in at the nearest hostel where they stayed for a couple of days. Wolfram was terribly weakened and sick. He needed some time to recover his strength. Rowan stubbornly stayed by his side to take care of him, leaving only to fetch food and to attend to personal basic body rituals.

Shardan, meanwhile, having been in the old town before, mingled and charmed his way among the locals. So it was no surprise that after barely even two days upon arriving, he found a small isolated property for sale at the northern end of one village, it was conveniently located near the large forest where he found the temple ruins many years before.

After purchasing the land, he took the others to see the modest property as soon as Wolfram was well enough to move about. The land had an average sized cabin built at the center of it. The place had two small bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining area and a sitting room. The structure was in dire need of repairs though, as it had not been used for many years. The roof had holes and the worn down doors needed replacement. The interior of house was filthy and had no furnishings whatsoever. The garden or what used to be a garden was now home to a variety of grass, weeds, creeping vines and other wild flora.

It took another two weeks before they were able to occupy their new lodgings. Shardan managed to hire several skilled labourers to see to the repairs of the house and personally oversaw the work. The two younger mazoku on the other hand, employed their skills with scouting the village for furniture and household items trying, without much success, to compromise Wolfram's aesthetics with Rowan's sensibility. Arguing with a volatile, pregnant demon prince that a dark red couch doesn't match bright orange curtains with big pink flower prints is a sure way of getting your clothes nearly burned to a crisp and your hair singed at the edges. The end result though of the exasperating ordeal was a quaint little place with simple, basic, practical, if slightly mismatched furniture. It was a far cry from the lavish environment the young mazoku prince was used to, but it had a warm, comfortable atmosphere that Wolfram decided, it simply will have to do.

Now, over two months later, Wolfram von Bielefeld found himself adjusting to this simple life, without heavy responsibilities or obligations, a life where he is not chained to title or rank or image, where he is not expected to act or speak a certain way. A life where he is free to be just plain Wolfram, and actually have some people outside his own immediate family appreciate that. Despite the heartache and tears that he had shed over his lost love in the days and weeks that followed his departure, Wolfram found a semblance of peace here in the land of his ancestors. It dulled his pain, giving him moments of rest to gather his strength for the future that lay before him.

The days found him exploring old temple ruins deep within the forest. Sometimes he comes with his uncle, but most of the time he wanders there all alone, like today. Hoping to find something that could shed light to his bloodline's lost past. He felt an odd connection to the ruins. For some reason, it was as if he had found another sanctuary, like the abandoned tower back at Covenant castle.

In the days since he had first stepped within the ancient temple grounds, he and Shardan only found two things that might be of use later on. First was a stone tablet with inscribed ancient characters and a defaced half-carved flower on a small round marble disk. Other than that, little other progress was made. But Shardan von Christ, being the scholar that he was, would always smile encouragingly at Wolfram saying that patience will yield rewards before long. He wished he had his uncle's optimism.

His reminiscing was halted at the sight of their torch lit porch where a familiar figure moved to and fro the wooden floors.

Approaching the wooden lodge, Wolfram espied his former subordinate and smiled inwardly.

"Excellency, you are so late!" Rowan cried out, half in relief and half in worry as he caught sight of the Bielefeld heir.

"I'm sorry, I was at the ruins," the blonde explained. His companion had been long brought into confidence about the curse and their efforts to find a way to end it. "I lost track of the time. And for the millionth time, it's Wolfram."

"You shouldn't be out so late, sire. Not in your condition," the red haired mazoku began to fuss over him, leading him inside the house, taking his robes and escorting him onto the couch.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," the other muttered sitting down.

His companion stood over him, arms akimbo and a scolding frown on his lightly tanned face.

"That's not the point; the wind is very cold tonight. It will be winter soon. It's not good for-"

The imminent lecture was interrupted by a new voice.

"I'm home my beautiful, little-"

A book went flying towards the direction of the door, hitting its unprepared victim's shoulder.

"Ouch, what the- hey, I was reading this!" The protester picked up the heavy tome with a frown.

"Leave your filthy boots out! I just scrubbed the floor, you barbarian!"

"No need to get violent. Is it that time of the month?" Silver blue strands were flicked elegantly as a white robe was taken off and hanged by the door.

"I'm not some woman you-"

"Alright, enough already!" a slightly frustrated voice from the occupant of the couch called. "You're always at each other's throats. Honestly, two months in and your already bickering like some old married couple."

"I am not old." Shardan's smooth, baritone voice retorted.

"I resent the marriage part." Brown eyes glared in opposition. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff."

"Are we going to have dinner or what?" Wolfram asked, changing the subject after seeing his uncle about to retort with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Of course, sir. I made some soup and grilled fish and apple pie. I got good bargain on the fish, apples and the vegetables. Your Excellency should eat lots of green leafy vegetables and fresh fruits."

"Stop it with the formalities already Rowan, we've been here over two months, start calling me Wolfram for Shinou's sake!"

Sitting at the dinner table, the trio began to eat quietly. The food was delicious as always. Rowan proved to be a very able cook. Not to mention a promising housekeeper. Wolfram didn't know what they would've done without his ex-soldier. He shuddered to think being subjected to Shardan's exotic (read: inedible/poisonous) cooking.

"Well then Wolfram? Have you been out late again my dear nephew?"

"Yes Uncle, I went to the temple, but I didn't find anything new today."

"You shouldn't be working too hard. The cold is nearly biting at this hour. It's not good for your health."

"And you shouldn't go alone either, sire- I mean Wolfram, your condition limits your use of maryouku and you need someone to assist if ever something should happen."

"Yes, the little woman here actually has a valid point."

"Stop calling me a woman!"

"My woman then."

"When heaven burns and hell freezes over, bastard."

"Watch your language, my sweet, sensitive ears are listening."

"Wha-…oh. OH! I'm so sorry your Excellen- Wolfram, sire...err…"

Dinner was spent pretty much that way, with lighthearted banters mixed with some serious interludes. Wolfram thought to himself, it was like a family. Certainly not like his family back in Shin Makoku. They may care very much for each other, though they usually have interesting ways of showing it, and his mother was certainly affectionate (understatement) enough when they are together, they (as a family) were never this laidback. Their dinners always had a formal air even at its most casual with proper manners and decorum carefully observed.

Then he painfully remembers the time when he was embraced by Yuuri's family as one of their own, try as Jennifer might to make him especially welcome, it still felt like he was outside looking in most times, especially with the uncertain knowledge then of his fiancé's feelings disturbing his happier moments with the rest of the brood. Yuuri's family was warm and refreshing, but now that the engagement was broken and all…

Though he missed his mother and his brothers (yes, even Conrad) a lot, he thinks to himself, that it might not be so bad to have another family as he starts his new life. Not to replace the one he left behind, but to build a foundation of hope for a future of great memories that he can take with him when he goes.

And as he saw Rowan inconspicuously flick a pea that landed straight into Shardan's nose, he laughingly reflected that he would have quite an interesting family to work with here.

He rubbed the now noticeable bulge of his abdomen.

He wouldn't mind raising his children with a family such as this.

When he felt two sets of little feet kick inside him, his smiled even as he gasped.

And when Rowan began to make a fuss over him and he met his uncle's concerned eyes, he affirmed to himself that: yes, he truly wouldn't mind.

His twins seemed to agree after all.

End Chapter 3

A/N: About the cricketfrogs and hummingowls: well they have bearbees in the anime right? (snickers) don't sue…

Thank you for reading…

Chapter 4 will be fixed by tomorrow.

Ja ne.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: nope. not mine. that's the end of that.

A/N: Ah minna, so sorry for the delay. Been quite busy with work. Chapter 4up and edited. Thanks for the reviews: sawyer fan, moopad charly, anonymous. :)

Chapter 4: Labors and Discoveries.

The cold arms of winter embraced the land with a dead lover's stiff caress. The once lush forest now lay barren of life as the trees stood naked on frozen ground, devoid of their magnificent green raiment and bright, colored trimmings.

Even as the sun faintly displayed its dazzling smile, no creature in the woods rejoiced to meet its warm greeting. Instead, these animated wonders decided to sleep the day away, burrowing deep into the warm blankets of their seasonal abode whether in stone, wood or under the earth. They will not wake until the icy kiss of winter melts away with the arrival of spring.

But one fine day, when the white petals of frost opted to fall lightly in the midst of a slumbering forest where the remains of a once magnificent edifice lay, a striking sight awaited any observer who might have dared to trespass into these parts. Kneeling on the ground at the left side of the ruins, an elegant creature carefully extracted a tablet of white marble from underneath two large stones with deft, elegant, ivory fingers. His silver-blue hair waving softly as the cold, gentle breeze touched his serious, yet handsome face. A few paces away, on a log shaped marble that used to be a proud pillar, sat beautiful young man with soft smile on his face, his eyes closed to the world and his golden locks peeking under a thick fur-lined hood. Together, the two of them looked like winter's lost children.

The older of the two, Shardan von Christ patiently pulled at the thin slab that might contain vital clues to his nephew's condition. As autumn gave way to winter, the thick grass, clingy vines and thorny bushes that enveloped the ruins gradually wilted; baring the secrets they had hidden under their foliage with little effort. The blue-eyed noble decided that it will be a good time to do some exploration of the ancient sacred grounds. Day by day, his work steadily progressed as little clues began to emerge and a few more marble tablets with ancient scripts surfaced beneath the rubble. He will take some time to translate them as soon as spring arrives. Sometimes he would take a certain feisty ex-soldier here with him to help him move some of the larger stones that he couldn't lift physically or magically. It gave him more time to bond (-molest-) with the red-haired mazoku.

Since the season changed, Wolfram wasn't able to go the temple ruins. Or more appropriately, he was stubbornly banned from going, despite the screaming tantrums and maryoku flares, by two overly concerned and now overly protective companions. They finally convinced him that it would be best to stay home after Shardan brought home a certain book that he had his brother delivered to the village post all the way from Shin Makoku via a carrier bird. It was all about male mazoku pregnancy.

Male pregnancy isn't all that common in the demon tribe. Many of the same sex couples are often not too inclined to create an offspring for some reason. But for those who wanted to start a family, several options have been made available aside from the usual adoption.

The most common way for a male to conceive was through a unique fertility potion invented by demon alchemists many generations back. A potion is taken every month by the carrier until the body gradually adapts to accommodate and support an embryo. Another potion is then taken to release the necessary hormones that are needed to actually create the baby. A second option was through a powerful spell and ritual. However, this was deemed too dangerous, as the recipient body is usually traumatized by the abrupt change it undergoes, magically and internally. Very few survive this ordeal.

And then there are the rare cases of the natural male begetters. Not many mazoku clans were blessed with this trait. How this came to be, not even the experts can say. This condition has always been looked upon as an anomaly of sorts.

The Bielefeld line had produced several male mazoku who seemingly possessed the natural ability to procreate. But Shardan had reasoned that perhaps the curse had something to do with this. To ensure the continuation of the line that had been restricted to one heir per generation. Wolfram agreed. What really puzzled Shardan was the fact that the young prince had two slightly different maryoku growing inside of him. This indicated that it is highly possible that the blonde was pregnant with twins. If this was the case, how was this possible?

Lord von Christ decided to take this in a positive light and thus told his nephew that perhaps it is a sign that the curse might be ending soon. Wolfram was quite skeptical though. And yet Shardan thought that there was spark of hope that lingered in those emerald orbs, even for a moment.

The sapphire-eyed noble refused to consider a second alternative theory: that the cowardly king's potency, magical or sexual, was powerful enough to create two heirs inside his nephew. No, that can never be it.

Anyway, the book that he acquired pointed out that pregnant male demons are more sensitive to many things, including climate changes, than female demons because their bodies are not used to the erratic hormonal fluctuations that occur during pregnancy. A male's body also becomes easily stressed as the internal functions are temporarily disrupted with the formation of an artificial womb as in the case of the medically induced pregnancy, the abnormally large amount of maryouku drained in the case of magically induced ones, and the complex inner workings of a natural conception.

The book had been most helpful to them and Wolfram was especially thankful to the author who had the foresight of writing the text some fifty two years ago. It contained practically everything one needs to know about male mazoku pregnancy.

The proper diet program enabled Rowan to cook the right foods and serve these in the right amount for Wolfram so that the prince and his babies will stay healthy. The recommended exercises allowed Wolfram to maintain an ideal weight and not whine too much about looking like a fat, bloated cow. The guide to dealing with the psychological changes and unstable maryoku helped Shardan and Rowan to understand their younger companion's unpredictable mood swings, how to handle the sudden bursts of magic, how to protect themselves and dodge flaming balls of fire when the brat prince's fiery temper is roused.

The list of possible bodily changes enabled Wolfram to find ways on how to hide or accentuate his condition when the occasion calls for it and made him understand several important fact such as: a) napping is essential in aiding the body's adjustment to changes and it is good for the development of the babies. Thus, it is perfectly acceptable to spend three quarters of the day in bed; b) it is normal to have unusual cravings at any given time of day, so he should not feel guilty when he asks Rowan to grill him a steak at midnight, in the middle of a snowstorm and charmingly requests (violently demands) his uncle to go out and buy him sweet strawberries to eat with his steak and; c) he cannot be blamed for his verbal or magical outbursts seeing as pregnancy brings about a hyperawareness that makes him realize that everything is everyone else's fault.

However, the most important information that the book had offered was how to bring the little ones into the world. As the male mazoku body had no natural orifice where the babies could be delivered from, it was a given that an artificial pathway must be provided or else the worst case scenario could occur. During the formation of the baby mazoku in the womb, the parent's maryouku supports and sustain the younger ones developing magic. When the time comes for the baby to be born, the child's maryoku becomes unique and self sufficient . Thus, the babe stops feeding on the carrier's energy. If it stays in the womb too long when it is past due, the constant friction created from the meeting of two very distinct maryoku explodes. When this happens, the ordeal could very well kill both the begetter and the infant. To prevent this from happening the newborn must be surgically removed from his/her parent's body after eight months when the apex of the baby's size inside the womb is reached. The stomach is stretched to the point where the skin and muscle between the pelvic area and the distended flesh becomes abnormally thin. This is where a three to four inch of incision is usually made to pull the infant out. Scars on mazoku flesh heal quite nicely and most operations leave only a thin line that fades significantly over time.

Fortunately for Wolfram, a certain ex-soldier used to be a junior field healer during the war, a short-lived career though it was. Rowan assured the blonde that though he was a bit out of practice, he can properly learn the procedure in a few months. The blonde mazoku sighed in relief as he realized that they wouldn't have to bother any healer or doctor back in Shin Makoku and risk the exposure of his whereabouts to the family he had left behind.

Throughout the cold winter, Rowan had been adamant about keeping him indoors. His uncle, who usually finds it his role to oppose the redhead, surprisingly agreed.

This day however, the sole Bielefeld heir was resolute about going to the ancient site, arguing that, winter is coming to an end and that the day isn't too cold. Also, he compromised that if Shardan and Rowan would permit him to leave the house today, he promised to stay put and stop whining for the remainder of the season. The blonde also muttered something about the place calling to him. Rowan was quite skeptical seeing as the prince was now only five weeks away from giving birth, but Shardan finally acquiesced after seeing the longing in his nephew's eyes. The fact that the weather wasn't too chilly and the snowfall was light helped Wolfram's case as well.

After reassuring their apprehensive housekeeper that he will keep a close watch on their prince and making the green-eyed mazoku vow not to over exert himself, the two of them set out slowly with the blonde widely grinning as he slightly waddled on his way.

True to his word, the young lord von Bielefeld did not tire himself. He mostly sat quietly and watched his uncle work. That in itself was quite uncharacteristic of the younger mazoku but then again with the constant mood swings over the past few months his uncle just shrugged it off as one of those days, and dutifully went about his task.

Wolfram deposited his now slightly heavier self onto the marbled surface as comfortably as he can in his current state. He was glad that he was finally allowed to visit this place even once this winter. On this ground, he always seemed to find a sense of uncanny tranquillity and his weary being more than appreciated the feeling of serenity. As of late, he was feeling restless due to the stress of the pregnancy, the useless attempt to forget old heartaches, mingled with the excitement and scares of impending parenthood.

Sighing softly as he tried to clear his head of clutter, a soft melody reached his ears. The sound was so foreign, he knew he had never heard it before and yet it was utterly familiar somehow as if he had memorized it all his life. Someone was singing. And what a voice it was. That much can be deduced. It wasn't his uncle, that's for sure as the older nobleman couldn't sing if his life depended on it. And the voice was definitely female. The words were of a language he could not understand but he knew what it was about. It spoke of a love born in winter. A love that died before spring. It spoke of the deepest devotions and it sang of a broken heart. It speaks of the highest peaks of ecstasy and the deepest pits of despair. It was a song sung by his very own soul.

As the tune slowly faded Wolfram opened his eyes trying to look for the source. He was about to ask his companion if he had heard it when he caught something from the corner of his eyes. Standing a few feet away to his left was a woman. It was a woman dressed in white. Wolfram could swear that she was carrying a basket of fresh flowers. But as he turned his head towards the figure she was gone.

On the spot where she was standing, a golden yellow flower laid. Suddenly, a gust of wind passed and carried the golden blossom straight to the puzzled pregnant male and landed almost purposely on the swell of blonde's stomach.

It was a flower that he knew so well. Beautiful Wolfram. It was in full bloom in the middle of winter.

All of a sudden, a gasp broke the silence in the air and the young prince turned to his uncle and found that the latter had successfully unearthed the marble stone tablet that he had been pulling at for quite a while. The look of surprise on the older noble's face made Wolfram mighty curious.

"Uncle?"

"This is the strangest thing Wolfram."

"What is?"

"See for yourself."

As the blue-eyed lord turned the table towards Wolfram's direction, the young one mirrored his uncle's reaction. Etched into the marble were two very familiar symbols.

The symbol of the ancient house of Bielefeld and… the old symbol of the ancient house of …

Wincott.

Suddenly, green eyes widened as Wolfram cried out in agony, his hand falling to his swollen abdomen. Forgetting all about the ancient artefact in his hands, Shardan rushed to his side, alarmed.

"It hurts! I think they want… out… now!" He tried to stand up but lost his balance because of the pain.

"Now? What! It's too early!" Shardan caught his nephew and tried to maintain his composure but failing somewhat.

"I know! Uncle I need… Rowan…" Suddenly, the body in his arms limped as the green-eyed heir lost consciousness. The maryoku from the distended stomach started to glow.

It was really starting. Gathering all the energy he can from within, Shardan von Christ scooped up the blonde and summoned his family's primary element, Air, to aid his speedy travel back home holding three precious lives in his strong arms…

End Chapter 4

A/N: So who do we know that's related to the Wincotts? Take a guess.

Thanks!


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